A Murder Most Rosy: Supernatural Witch Cozy Mystery (Harper “Foxxy” Beck Series Book 3) (5 page)

The thought of the little, magical bag and how it’d felt against my skin sent a shiver down my spine. It wasn’t that I hadn’t liked the sensation, but that I’d liked it too much. And that scared me.

“That’s another thing you don’t do,” he said. “You never talk about why you hate magic so much— strange trait for a witch.”

It’d have been so much easier if I just hated magic.

“I don’t hate it,” I told him honestly. “It scares me.”
              After a moment, he smiled tiredly, a trace of amusement in his lips. “Someday, you’re gonna tell me all your secrets.”

On the day I wanted him to leave me, running away and screaming, I thought. But I was smart enough not to say that out loud.

I caught Kosher just as he was trying to leave the police station parking lot. Sliding in front of his driver’s side door, I gave him my biggest smile. He returned it rudely with a suspicious, annoyed look and a gesture to move out of his way.

The man had a large gut, bad sideburns, and was about forty. The victim, on the other hand, had been young and beautiful— not to mention the fact that she had a personality. It was no wonder why these two lovebirds didn’t work out.

“What do you want, Beck?’

“Just to say how sorry am I for your loss. Kara’s death must have come as quite the blow.”

His lips smashed together. “You’d had best not be sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong. One of these days, someone’s gonna cut it off.”

I got up in his space. “Would that someone be you?”

Pushing me out of the way, he got in his car. “I mean it, Beck. Leave Kara’s case alone. It’s none of your damn business.”

He peeled out of the parking lot with tires squealing. I watched him go as I tapped my chin thoughtfully. I’d seen them do it on TV, and it was very helpful, actually.

“That sure doesn’t sound like a happy, well-adjusted guy who didn’t murder his ex,” I said to the universe. It’s only a problem if the universe starts talking back.

My phone rang while I was wracking my brain for more evidence that would point me towards Kosher— or in any direction. I wasn’t picky at this point.

Cooper asked through the line, “Are you near the school?”

Waresville wasn’t very big, so everywhere was near the school. “I could be. Why?”

“I left my math book in my locker. And I have homework due tomorrow.”

“A trade, then,” I said. “You weasel information out of your dad about Ms. Nittleman’s autopsy, and I’ll get your book.”

We metaphorically shook on it, and I was off. Parking in my usual spot, I followed the directions Cooper texted me from Wyatt’s phone with my face pressed against the screen.

Inevitably, I ran into someone. I looked up to apologize and found myself staring into the eyes of the creepy, old janitor. He said nothing; though this was the second time I’d run into him. Pushing his cart along, he watched me as he moved down the hallway.

“Don’t mind him,” a voice said from behind me.

I jumped a mile and put my hand to my chest, willing my heart to slow to manageable levels. When I realized it was just Norbert, it did slow slightly.

“Has he always been like that?” I asked, staring after the strange man.

Norbert shrugged. “He’s been worse since Kara died. Between you and me, I think he had a little bit of a crush on her.” He motioned to the deserted hall. “What’re you doing here?”

I reached into Cooper’s locker and pulled out the math book. “Forgot my homework.”

“Fractions can be tricky. Wouldn’t want to leave it to the last minute.”

“You’re telling me.” I closed the door and started to move back towards the exit. “See you at rehearsal.”

“Can’t wait,” he said cheerily.

That made me stop. Raising an eyebrow, I said, “Really? Watching children put on a mediocre play is a fun time for you?”

“Hey, I like Romeo and Juliet. It’s a great romance.”

Wrinkling my nose, I said, “They died.”

He smiled. “Love conquers all.”

I left after saying a few more pleasantries. Despite what I’d told Wyatt, I only stayed at the Victorian long enough to drop off Cooper’s book. As Wyatt was in the room, I motioned for Cooper to hold his tongue about what he’d found out until later.

After that, I headed over to my loft above the Funky Wheel. I was completely beat and wanted to fall into bed and sleep for an eternity. Fate, unfortunately, had other plans for me.

I kicked off my shoes at the door, not paying attention to where they landed. When I bounced down onto the bed, something dark fell off, clunking onto the floor. I peered over the side, and my eyes almost popped out and joined the object on the ground.

With shaking fingers, I picked up an eerily familiar burlap pouch. At first, I thought the gris-gris had just transported here like the flowers. Then, the magic seeped into me. I could taste it through my skin, and the sensation made me want to puke.

This one was meant for me.

I hurled it across the room, jumping off the bed and backing toward the door. Suddenly, the dark apartment felt even more foreign than usual. Someone had invaded my space, violated it.

Without bothering to grab my shoes, I sprinted out the door and to the car. The bug’s engine caught, giving me trouble, but eventually, I was roaring down the road, running to the only place that occurred to me.

It was late, and all the lights were off, making the house seem deserted. The door gave way to my magic with a helpful click. I turned both of the locks once I was on the other side; leaning against the door to make sure it was secure for just a scant second. My breath rushed out of me in relief.

I slipped into Wyatt’s room and into the empty space next to his slumbering form. He rolled over as I settled in, blinking in a dazed manner.

“Harper? What’s wrong?”

Though I’d originally run away from answering his earlier questions, they seemed preferable to putting into words what I’d just found.

“You asked me once what kind of trouble I’d been in,” I said instead. “When I was alone in Miami after my mom died.”

“You said it wasn’t as bad as killing anyone, but you wouldn’t be confessing it to a cop anytime soon.”

Good old Wyatt with a memory like an elephant.

He didn’t say anything more, his hand curling around mine under the covers. I could tell he was struggling to not push, to let me come to him.

“I hurt someone. Bad. Maybe he deserved it— I don’t really know anymore. But I did it with magic.”

I took a deep breath. “This was a couple months before I got the call about my dad dying and me inheriting the Funky Wheel. I’d been on my own for a while.”

“That must have been hard.”

Shrugging, I said, “Less hard because I’m a witch. I never went hungry.”

He was silent, waiting for me to continue.
              “One night, I was walking home from the grocery store, and a man jumped me. He was just a kid, really, and all he wanted was money— don’t we all. But… I was all hyped up. I’d been using too much magic for too long. Without even thinking, I used it then.”

It’d felt like fire consuming me, eating me alive. But I’d loved it and craved more. I’d wanted to pour all my magic into this boy who had hurt me until it would’ve been all I was.

“I lost control,” I told him finally. “Last time I checked, the boy was still in physical therapy. He’ll never be the same.”

“And that’s why you don’t like magic,” Wyatt finished for me.

It was too dark to read anything in his eyes, so I couldn’t see if he was disgusted, scared, or any of that. Finally, his arm came around me, though he said nothing further.

While I waited for his words of condemnation, his breathing evened out. I fell asleep next to him, waiting for those hurting words that would never come.

______

“Are you moving in?”

I flinched, almost spilling the chocolate cereal I was trying to pour for Cooper. If he didn't want to eat his breakfast from the ground, he'd keep his unnerving questions to himself.

Plopping the bowl down in front of him, I said, "Let's focus on murder. What do you have for me?"

Without so much as touching his cereal, he sprung up from his chair, dragging me upstairs to his bedroom. It was as immaculately groomed as ever, but there was a large, rolling whiteboard in the middle. I suspected he'd pulled it from an organized section of his closet.

On it was a visual map of all the information we'd gathered so far. I took it in with mixed emotions. Who knew the kid paid that much attention when I talked?

"I made it last night," he said.

"We'll broach the subject of acceptable hobbies later." Pulling the desk chair towards me, I sat and gazed up at his work. "By the way, a list of suspects can't be considered a list if it only has a single name on it. But Kosher is a good start."

He poised his marker at the ready. "Who should I add?"

"Mrs. Wiser−"

"Chase's mom?"

"Not likely, I know, because my grandma said it was a man, but she wanted Kara's job awful bad. And I don't like her." The latter was the biggest mark against her. "The janitor, too— he had a crush on your teacher, is always hanging about, and gives me the creeps."

While Cooper was writing, he asked, "Why do we suspect Officer Kosher? Dad likes him."

My nose wrinkled in distaste at that. "Jealousy and pride are great motivators for murder, and he's a man, so he fits all the necessary criteria. There was a romantic element with the flowers and chocolate, too, but that could also point to the janitor."

That, and my gut feeling that Kosher was hiding something, made him my best suspect. Unfortunately, he was also my worst suspect, because if he had killed Kara, I had no proof and no credibility to bring down a decorated cop.

"Hey," I said, suddenly remembering the textbook from yesterday, "what did your dad say about the autopsy?"

"It's right there." Cooper pointed to that information on the board with exasperation. "They didn't do a thorough one, but they found skin under her nails. Whatever that means."

I said absently, "Means she scratched someone. Did they do DNA?"

He shook his head. "Dad said it would be a waste of... something about dollars."

Waste of the taxpayers’ dollars
, I completed silently. If it was a suicide, Wyatt would've been right since the cause of death was so apparent. Still, I wanted to give the M.E. a firm kick in the pants for ruining my best bet at physical evidence.

Oh well, I usually went without it, anyway. Magic and science weren't always happy bedfellows.

"But if you find someone with scratch marks, you'll find the killer, right?" Cooper asked.

"Right," I said with a lot more confidence than I felt. "Maybe I should ask all the men in town to disrobe."

That could prove amusing for so many reasons, but I doubt I'd get more than a couple of exhibitionists to actually do it. Besides, I didn't want to leave Cooper alone in the house. What had seemed fine a few days ago made my heart sputter and my skin dampen in fear now. If someone could get into the loft, they could get into the Victorian, as well.

Pursing my lips, I eyed Cooper. Seeming to sense my scrutiny, he turned around and said, "What?"

"Wanna go on a secret reconnaissance mission? Secret as in, we don't ever tell your dad."

At first, he was dubious about keeping a secret from his all-knowing father, but once we'd gotten into the bug and started driving around town, he got in the spirit. 

"Who are we spying on?"

I fished Wyatt's binoculars out of the console and pulled up to a spot from which I could see the police station, but the people at the police station couldn't readily see me. At least, I hoped they couldn't, because this was very stalker/ terrorist plot behavior, and Waresville wasn't big on due process or civil liberty. In a way, it was like our own little Guantanamo Bay in the middle of Florida.

"Are we spying on my dad?"

"Don't be ridiculous," I said, training the scope on the parking lot. "I have a whole team of investigators for that. If that man ever even drives by a strip club, I'll know about it."

"What's a strip club?"

I broke my concentration to look over at my young charge briefly. "An establishment with a great buffet and flattering lighting."

"Oh," he said. "Have you ever been to one?"

Clearly, bringing him along was a mistake. I'd forgotten that kids needed to be entertained, or they'd talk your ear off. I was leery to share my strip club experience with him, too, because I never knew what he was going to repeat to his Lord and Master.

Risking Wyatt finding out, I said, "I worked at one for a while, when I was still in Miami."

"Did you eat at the buffet?"

God, save me from the endless questions. "No," I told him haltingly. "Buffets are mostly carbs. If I'd eaten there all the time, no lighting in the world would have made me look good."

I held up a hand to stop any further inquiries because our prey had appeared. And because I sincerely didn't want to answer any more.

It was around lunchtime, which was probably why Kosher was in such a hurry to get to his car. That high body-fat percentage took work to uphold. I admired his dedication. When he pulled away from the station, I followed him at a discrete distance, feeling very much like a FBI agent in a thriller film.

"Where's he going?"

Sometimes, Cooper astounded me with his wisdom that was beyond his years. This was not one of those times.

"If I knew that, would I have to follow him?" I asked dryly.

His car didn’t head home, which I had been half afraid of. How boring would that be? Instead, I followed Kosher to a place I was all too familiar with, unfortunately.